


With you, I'm home

by Aviss



Series: In the North - scenes not shown [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Spoilers, episode s804
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 11:38:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18799597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: Brienne arrives in Tarth. Even after speaking to Bran and knowing Jaime's reasons, she's not ready to forgive him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Last one, in two parts. hopefully, I can finish the rest today, I have the feeling I won't be in the mood for writing tomorrow :(

She throws up every day during the trip back to Tarth and lets the sailors believe it's sea sickness, though Brienne's an Islander through and through and has never felt even slightly queasy in a boat. Pod stays by her side the entire time, a skin of water and dry bread always ready for when she feels a bit better, and glares at any of the men who snicker behind her back, laughing at the mainlanders weak stomach.

She doesn't really mind, better for them to think she's a delicate woman than to hear again the whispers of Kingslayer's whore.

She had known what she was doing when she took Jaime into her bed, had known the names given to Ladies who sought love and pleasure without a Septon's blessings, thought those same names were never applied to the men they sought it with. It wasn't that Jaime had besmirched her honour, she had done that herself, what had really hurt her was that he had made her hope for more. He had made her believe she could have everything and then had taken it back, like those men who laughed at her at the ball.

She wonders what would she have done if Bran hadn't spoken to her when he did; she still has the vial of tansy Lady Sansa gave her, and she wishes she could say she wouldn't have used it, but she can't. 

Even after speaking to Bran and knowing Jaime's reasons, she's not ready to forgive him.

They make land in Tarth a day ahead of what she had expected, the sun trying to rise over the green peaks of her island. She smiles at the view, it has been too long since she was home last and her memories don't do it justice. 

"It's beautiful, Ser Brienne," Pod whispers by her side, reverent, and her smile widens a fraction at the wonder on his face and tone.

"It is, Pod, the most beautiful Island in the Seven Kingdoms."

There isn't anyone waiting for them when they disembark, but Brienne is the Evenstar's daughter and procuring two horses and transport for their things takes barely a minute. Around them the harbour is a bustle of activity, ships docking or departing, from Westeros to Essos and back again, the activity almost frantic now the wars are over and the survivors need to restock. 

She can't wait to get to Evenfall and get some rest. The days of sailing and being constantly sick have left her exhausted, and all she wants is to slip inside her house and go straight to her room to sleep for a day before she's ready to face Jaime, but she knows that she has to at least let her father know she's arrived. 

"Lady Brienne, you've arrived early," one of the maids greets her when they get to the castle. It's still early and the place is slumbering, though Brienne knows her father will be awake. He has always been an early riser. 

"Good morning, Tylena, we had good winds from White Harbour," Brienne replies, dragging the name form her memories. "Please have someone show Pod the rooms, is my father taking his morning walk around the cove?"

"No, Lady Brienne, he's in the courtyard knocking Ser Jaime around like they do every morning since he arrived."

Brienne feels her brows climbing up her forehead at the same time her stomach clenches, the mere mention of his name making her nervous. But she wants to see her father, and if she's completely honest with himself, she wants to see Jaime even more. Wants to knock him on his arse as well, though she's not going to do it because she's angry enough she might end up killing him.

She heads to the courtyard and stops to look at them from the shadows of the arch where they will not be able to see her yet. The first thing she notices is that her father has aged less than she expected; he's still big and solid, with more silver on his temples and deeper lines on his tanned face, but he looks healthy and is moving around the yard like a man ten years younger. In comparison, Jaime looks older and tired, thinner than she remembers and with longer and greyer hair and beard. There are deep shadows under his eyes that look almost like bruises, his eyes hooded and flat, and his forehead is creased in a frown. 

They are going at it fiercely, the clanging of their swords resonating in the courtyard, neither of them giving an inch. Brienne knows her father is a good swordsman, though he's not better than Brienne herself and he could have never defeated Jaime in his prime. Jaime is not in his prime, though, he's fighting with his off hand and looks like he's been through the wars, which she knows he's been.

She sees the moment her father feints and Jaime falls for it, the kick to his midriff sending him sprawling to the ground. Brienne winces, this is one of the few tricks she learned from her father and not the master at arms, has felt enough of those kicks herself to know how painful they are. Jaime's wheezing on the ground and her father takes the chance to approach him and put his sword against Jaime's neck. 

" _Yield_."

"No," Jaime refuses, breathless, and knocks the sword aside with his own, getting unsteadily to his feet. 

"You are stubborn as a mule," Selwyn says and the tone gives Brienne pause. Her father sounds fond, to those who know him and can hear it under his gruff tone. Unbelievably enough Jaime Lannister has charmed her father. 

"And you kick like one."

Selwyn chuckles. "I've disarmed you every morning since you arrived, and not once have you made me yield. Do you like losing this much?"

Jaime grits his teeth, the blow to his ego obvious, but he holds his ground. "I'm going to need to be more stubborn than your daughter if I want her to listen to me long enough to apologize." He attacks again, his movements are slower but skilful, his footwork as good as ever. Even with his left hand, Jaime is still a great swordsman. He wouldn't have survived the Battle of Winterfell otherwise. "And I haven't met a more pigheaded individual in my life."

"It's not your apologies she needs," Selwyn counters and he flicks his eyes on Brienne's direction. He knows she's there. "It's your name."

"She can have anything she wants from me," Jaime says, and she feels his words like hits landing. Only one thing she asked of him and he denied her. "She can have my name and my sword and my life and whatever fortune is left in the Rock."

"And if what I want is for you to go?" she hears herself asking and takes a step forward into the light. 

"Brienne." Jaime whips around to stare at her, his eyes wide as saucers. She can see her words register and the pain they inflict, Jaime's eyes close and his face drains of colour. He stumbles forward half a step before visibly stopping himself, his hand extending as if reaching for her before he reigns in it. "Then I go," he says, rough and pained. "But I would ask you leave to write to you, I know what I did is unforgivable and yet I will still beg your forgiveness." He takes a deep breath as if steeling himself. " _Please_."

She remembers saying that same word to him, and how much it hurt for him to leave anyway. But she can also remember his expression, crumbling on itself as if the one in pain was him. She doesn't want to see it again now, in spite of her anger and hurt she doesn't want to wound him.

"You don't need to leave, not yet," she concedes and sees her father nod approvingly behind Jaime, who sags in relief. "But I am terribly tired and want to spend some time with my father who I haven't seen in years"

"Thank you," Jaime says and hesitates for a moment before bowing his head and leaving the courtyard, his eyes not leaving Brienne.

She turns to her father the moment Jaime is out of sight and is in his arms a second later, his warmth and smell comforting after so many years. 

"Father," she whispers, and then she breaks down in sobs again, enfolded and safe in his arms. 

"Oh Brienne," Selwyn says, soft and sad, "You were never one for easy paths, were you, my child?"

…

Jaime hears her sobs start on his way to the hall and has to stop and press his forehead against the wall. This is the one sound he had never wanted to hear again, once had already been one time too many, and knowing that this time, same as the other, he's the cause of her tears is too much. 

There was a time when he didn't care about anyone but his sister and he would have done, he did, worse things than making a woman cry for her. He's not that man anymore, and he's glad for it. He doesn't like that man. 

With a sigh, he pushes away from the wall and heads to the kitchen for something to break his fast with. Since his arrival in Tarth, he's spent almost all his time with Selwyn and learned more about Brienne from her father than she had revealed on their long years of acquaintance. He's heard about how the death of her mother and brother affected her, how Selwyn doted on his only remaining child and nurtured her stubbornness and fixation with swordplay and Knighthood where other father would have forced his daughter into ill-fitting gowns and worse fitting betrothals.

"She broke his collarbone," Selwyn had recounted one morning while they broke their fast in the kitchens. Jaime had still been nursing his bruised jaw from the first day's punch, more bruises adorning his torso and limbs from their sparring sessions. "And that's the last time I tried to find her a husband. The first one died, the second one insulted and humiliated her, and the last one she beat herself." Selwyn had fixed him with his most serious stare. "And yet none of them were worse matches than the one she found herself." The bluntness of the statement had stung, though it was nothing but the truth. "Politically speaking, we have nothing to offer you, the Lannister name and fortune are still strong, even after the wars you have retained Casterly Rock and the title of Paramount of the Westerlands."

"My brother is still Hand of the King, and King Jon is not an unreasonable man. Regardless of my sins, I fought for them in the end and the Westerlands need stability."

"You could try to convince me to take your side and arrange the match with Brienne myself just on those grounds, she's no longer a maid and is with child, no man would want her even if she was beautiful." 

Jaime had laughed bitterly at that. "I am the cad who dishonoured her and put the child in her belly; if I tried that I wouldn't live long enough for her to become a widow."

Selwyn had clasped him in the shoulder, cracking a smile for the first time. " _You do know her._ Now, tell me why you deserve her when none of those men did."

" _I don't_ , I don't deserve her," Jaime had admitted. "But I love her, and I want her. Not Tarth, not her money or title, I have those myself. _Your daughter_. I should have never left her before making her my wife, but I wasn't thinking properly. I should have never left her at all."

That was the moment Selwyn had accepted Jaime, though that had not prevented him from beating him black and blue on the training yard every morning. 

And now Brienne is back, and Jaime is not ready. He doesn't know what to say to her, doesn't know how to act but following her direction. He knows he's lucky Brienne is allowing him to stay, he had thought for an instant that she wouldn't. Oh, but she looked terrible, green around the gills and drawn, her hair falling limp around her face and her beautiful eyes clouded and distant. She has never looked at him like she just did in the yard, closed off and distant. Even when they had just met and they hated each other Brienne's eyes had shown everything she was thinking of feeling. Today those beautiful eyes have been vacant and guarded, and Jaime has hated himself for it. 

He takes some food from the kitchen and goes tot he guest room he's been given, thinking that Brienne is not the only person who's tired. Jaime has been unable to sleep through the night since he left Winterfell and hasn't given himself time to properly heal after King's Landing. Spending the day in his room feels like the right thing to do, out of sight of Brienne so she can be with her father and in her home. 

It's the only thing he can do for her right now. 

...


	2. Chapter 2

He hears the sound of sword fighting when he gets up in the morning the next day, feeling like he hasn't slept for more than five minutes. Every time he closed his eyes Brienne's face came to the forefront of his mind, tear-stained cheeks and trembling lips, begging him to stay with her. Or he would see her face in the courtyard, remote and cold, telling him to go and never come again. Other times it would be Cersei's face, her beautiful smile when they were young and carefree, playing together in the Rock, her empty eyes and bloodstained lips in the throne when she died. He would see Bran, falling down the tower window, and Catelyn Stark calling him a monster. 

There are so many ghosts of his past to visit him it's a miracle he can get even an hour of sleep these days.

He heads to the courtyard, fully expecting to see Brienne and her father, or Pod, clashing swords. Ever since he met her, Jaime has never known for Brienne to skip training one morning. She's not there, though, instead, Selwyn is training with Pod. 

"She's in the cove on the west side of the castle," Selwyn tells him without stopping or even looking at him. 

Jaime thanks him and heads that way, to the small closed beach Selwyn pointed out as Brienne's favourite. He can see why; the place is stunning, with the sun rising and illuminating the blue waters it appears almost unreal. Brienne is there, sitting on the sand with the waves lapping at her bare feet. She's not wearing her usual tunic and breeches, but a loose turquoise dress made of flowing material which is too short for her but not too small, and the fabric moulds to the gentle curve or her stomach where she's beginning to show. 

"It belonged to my mother," she says when Jaime is close enough to cast a bit of shadow over her. How she has known it was him when he hasn't spoken yet, Jaime doesn't know. "My father gave me yesterday all the dresses she wore when she was pregnant; she wasn't as tall as I am, but fortunately she wasn't very small either."

"It looks very good on you," Jaime says inanely, his mind stuck on the word pregnant. It's something he has known since the beginning, but hearing it said so plainly, hearing it acknowledged it in the open robs his breath. 

Brienne finally turns to look at him, her eyes piercing. " _You left me_ ," she says, and it's almost a snarl. Oh, she's angry. She's furious, her eyes blazing with it, and he's grateful for it. Let him bear the brunt of her rage, he deserves it, after all, it's her tears that he finds unbearable. 

"I'm sorry, I dishonoured you--" he begins, but she cuts him off with a sharp head shake. 

" _Fuck honour_ ," he remembers the first time he heard her curse, fuck loyalty, she had said, and Jaime had been shocked speechless by it. "You broke my heart." He knows that and has been beating himself for it every day since he left. "You left, and you made me the laughing stock of Winterfell. Do you want to know how many jokes about _Ser Whore_ they made? How many people asked if I kneeled for you before you Knighted me or if that was the reason you did? They never said it where the Lady Sansa could hear, of course not, and the lords and ladies knew better than that, but I still heard the whispers, still could feel their eyes following me." Jaime feels sick hearing her. He isn't surprised at the cruelty of people, hates that they have inflicted it on Brienne so callously and that he's been the cause of it. "Did my father tell you of my betrothals? About the one where my intended took a look at me and threw a rose at my feet saying that was the only thing I'd ever get of him because I was too ugly to marry? That's how I felt again when you left me."

He drops on the sand next to her, close enough that he could extend his arm and touch her and his left hand itches with the need to do so. He sits on the hand, he's already done enough damage. "I am sorry," he says again because he can never say it enough. "I never intended for you to get hurt that way."

"No, you just intended to break my heart and then die, as if that would hurt any less."

"I was stupid, I know." He's been more than that, he's been thoughtless and cruel and selfish. "I should have spoken to you before leaving. I should have married you before leaving." He had promised her and then broke his oath. Another one.

" _You shouldn't have left_ ," she almost shouts, and her hands are clenched tightly by her side. For the first time, Jaime notices she's not wearing Oathkeeper by her hip, and it feels like a bad omen.

"I had to." But did he really have to? He doesn't know anymore, he was willing to pay the price when it was his life, not if the cost is her reputation and pain.

"No, you believed you had to save the Seven Kingdoms on your own, again, and didn't care about your life because you didn't consider it important. It was important to me." 

She stands up and leaves the cove without looking back, and Jaime stays staring at the sea and hearing her words over and over again, what will he do if she doesn't care anymore?

…

Brienne goes to the cove the next morning to see the sunrise. 

Before, she would have been sparring by that time but she can't in her condition, so in the morning she puts on one of her mother's old dresses and goes down to the cove to watch the sun as it touches the crystalline waters. 

She didn't see Jaime at all after their conversation in the cove, and she's almost glad for it. Nothing was resolved, as she knew it wouldn't be, but the cold bite of anger inside of her is a bit less sharp, like a wound lanced and drained. There's still plenty inside of her, but at least she doesn't feel like drowning in it anymore. 

Jaime appears after a few minutes and sits with her in silence for a while, both of them staring at the trail left by the sun on the gentle waves.

"When I arrived in Winterfell," he begins, it's not what Brienne was expecting to hear and she turns to look at him. Jaime is still staring ahead, brow furrowed and eyes soft and sad. "Bran told me I was to die in the North fulfilling an old oath, and that my child would be the Heir of Tarth," he sounds wistful, whether it's death he longs for or the unborn child, Brienne doesn't know. "To me, it sounded like a fair exchange. My life, wretched as it was, in exchange for a chance to be with you, and for a part of me to stay with you forever." He falls silent again, though Brienne knows he's not finished. He hasn't apologized to her yet, after all, and that is what he's here to do. "I had not believed you would be hurt for long; yes you loved me, but my experience with love has always been skewed by my sister. I would give, and give, and give and receive only scraps in return. I knew you loved me, and that you were different from her, and yet I couldn't imagine you suffering more than a mild inconvenience at my absence, the way it had always been for her." He finally turns to look at her, his eyes the saddest she has ever seen. "I am sorry, Brienne, that I ever hurt you. I would change things if I could, but I can't, I can only repeat every day how sorry I am and beg your forgiveness until you do or send me away."

She wants to cry for him, for the way he's been taught that love was something he had to give, not receive, but she has shed too many tears for him already. She wants to say she forgives him, but the vial of tansy is still in her room. " _I can't._ "

He nods and gets to his feet. "Do you want me to go?"

He's not asking about leaving the cove. "No. Not yet."

"Thank you."

Brienne stays in the cove for a while after he's gone, her hand on her abdomen and her eyes fixed on the waves, and wonders how did she end up falling in love with a man that feels as undeserving of it as she has always done. They are really a matched pair, the Gods have shown a sense of humour there. 

With a sigh, she stands up and goes to look for her father. 

…

It becomes their ritual. In the mornings Brienne will go down to the cove to see the sun rising and Jaime will join her for however long it takes to make his apologies. 

Every day he will ask for forgiveness, and every day she will tell him no. Every day he will ask if she wants him gone and she will reply not yet. Those are their only interactions, though Brienne has seen him spar with her father and Pod in the yard. Apart from that he keeps to his rooms or stays away from Evenfall.

She's been feeling much better since she arrived, Tarth's air has always agreed with her, and the gentleness of the people compared to her last days in the North have gone a long way to soothe her anger and shame. She's filling out after the harshness of war and her sickness during her travel, her cheeks rosy and healthy, her flat stomach curving gently. She's never going to be beautiful, but wearing her mother's gowns and with her skin kissed again by sunlight, she can almost believe what they say about all pregnant women being radiant.

On the other hand, Jaime looks worse than when she arrived. The shadows under his eyes look like bruises and his cheeks keep hollowing, his hair and beard grow longer and unkempt. His eyes are always sad, and whatever light remained in them disappears a bit more each day. She's reminded of that time they were captured together and were it not for the cook confirming he takes his meals in his room, Brienne would suspect he's letting himself die again.

"You have to decide what to do with him," Selwyn tells her during dinner a fortnight after her arrival. They are alone in the hall, Pod having retired early claiming exhaustion though Brienne has seen him flirting with one of the maids, a young widow who has been making eyes at him. Of Jaime, she hasn't seen hair nor hide since the morning. "Either take him back or let him go."

"He's free to go if he wants," she says, taking a bite of her fish. Her appetite has returned with a vengeance once her morning sickness is gone, and Tarth is one of the few places not ravaged by war, there is plenty of food. "I could not stop him before, I doubt I could stop him now." She can hear the bitterness and anger in her voice, and so can her father.

Selwyn shakes his head. "This is not like you, my child. You are not this cruel."

"How am I being cruel?" But even as she says it, she can see it in the way he disappears a bit more every morning, how he has stopped leaving his rooms except for their morning talks as if he were waiting for the moment her answer will change, but not into forgiveness. Like he's just waiting for the axe to fall. "He's the one who chose to leave, he can't be expecting to just come back as he pleases? He can go back to the Rock if he wants."

"No, he can't leave, not until you tell him to. He did once and now he's paying for that mistake." Her father takes a drink from his wine, thinking on his next words. "I know he hurt you, and if I hadn't received word from you and his brother, I would have done much worse than punch him when he arrived, but that man loves you and he's here enduring his punishment."

"I'm not punishing him," she protests weakly. He father doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at her until she sighs and lets her fork and knife down by her plate, appetite completely gone. "May I be excused?"

"Of course."

She retreats to her room and drops on the bed, eyes closed and arms crossed over them. Her father is right, as usual. She has been punishing Jaime for leaving her, for the pain and scorn she faced when he was gone, for making her feel unwanted and unlovable again. She knows he had a reason, knows that he wasn't betraying her as she had believed in the beginning. 

But it still hurt.

She knows she still loves him, and though she's still angry, she hadn't meant to treat him so cruelly. She was testing him, Brienne realizes with a sinking stomach, seeing how far she could push him away before he left her again. And she might have kept pushing if her father had not opened her eyes.

But he's not going to leave again, once committed Jaime stays unless he has no other choice. This is something she has always known, except that loyalty used to belong to someone else someone who abused it and mistreated him. Brienne refuses to follow her footsteps, she's better than this, she knows him better than this. 

She grabs the vial of tansy, still there by her bed, and throws it out of the window and into the sea.

Suddenly she needs to speak to him.

…

Jaime's head is pounding like it's been doing every day lately when he decides it's time to retire to bed. He's been taking a walk around the castle grounds to clear his head, a habit he's fallen into in the fortnight since Brienne's arrival, but the cool breeze from the sea has failed to bring any relief today. 

He doesn't know what he's doing here, in Tarth, except waiting for the inevitable, for Brienne to realize that she doesn't want him after all, and send him back to Casterly Rock. It feels more and more certain every day she doesn't forgive him, but she hasn't told him to go yet, so he stays. 

He lays on the bed with his eyes closed, not even bothering to take off his clothes. He's not going to sleep, Jaime already knows that but hopes his mind will disconnect for a few minutes at least and he can get some respite from the loop of regret and old ghosts his nights have become. 

He misses Brienne, not just the Brienne who shared her bed and body with him in Winterfell, though he misses her like he misses his sword hand. But he also misses the one from before they became lovers, the fierce warrior and protector, the friend. He would give anything to be able to have one conversation with her like before, to be able to read her eyes and see more than a block of ice there.

He has no one to blame but himself for the distance between them, and at least here he can speak to her in the morning and see her during the day, even if she doesn't see him. 

There's a knock on the door and Jaime groans, standing up from the bed. He hopes is not the cook again bringing him food, like she did the last time he didn't stop by the kitchens. He's not hungry, needs more the rest than the food. "I'm sorry, Darla," he says as he opens the door, "but I'm not hungry tonight."

It's not Darla by his door but Brienne and Jaime feels his breath catch in his throat. She looks lovely, the dresses she has been using are in an old style which would have never worked in court, but they suit her perfectly and give her a more womanly figure than any he has seen her wearing before. Her hair is messy, it makes Jaime think of her hair when she was just fresh out of bed, and her skin almost glows with the faintest of tans. 

"Brienne," he says, regretting his unkempt appearance. Not that he has been making much of an effort lately. 

"May I come in?" she asks, and that's when he knows it. This is it, this is when she asks him to leave. He moves aside and lets her in, closing the door behind her. "I'm sorry, Jaime." He waits for the rest of the sentence, for her to tell him she has tried, but she can't trust him or love him anymore. It's what he deserves, after all. "I was hurt and angry, and I was cruel to you."

He blinks, sure he hasn't heard correctly, and stares into her eyes. Her beautiful, clear and innocent eyes that shine with all the emotions he hasn't been able to read for too long. He takes a step toward her, hand extended to touch her face, and then stops himself. "You don't need to apologize."

She takes a step closer to him and takes his hand, pressing them both to her face. "Yes, I do. I wanted to hurt you the same way you had hurt me, and for that I'm sorry."

"Do you forgive me, then?" he asks, barely daring to hope.

As a response, Brienne leans closer and presses her lips against his, softly and chastely, and Jaime feels the weight of all these past weeks since he left Winterfell falling from his shoulders. He surges forward until he has her pressed against the door, opening his mouth and trying to devour her. He needs to be closer, needs to feel her skin and remember the taste of her mouth and body. He's been too long without it, and the way she's giving back to him, her mouth hard against his, taking control while one of her hands grips the back of his neck hard enough to hurt, tells him she's missed this too. 

"Brienne," he breathes against her mouth, then he moves his lips to her neck and starts nipping at the soft skin there. She lets out a low moan that goes straight to Jaime's cock, and he's suddenly, dizzyingly hard. 

He takes a step back. "No, no," he mumbles, trying to extricate himself from her. "I have to do it right this time."

"You can do that in the morning," she says, and now she's the one pushing him back until he hits the bed, and they both fall on top of it. They keep kissing, air no longer a necessity now he has Brienne, let her breath sustain him, that's all he wants anymore. "I need you inside of me now."

Jaime closes his eyes and stills his movements, her voice and body threatening to make him spill on his breeches like a green boy. They don't bother removing their clothes, too impatient by too long a time without each other, too needy and desperate, Brienne lifts up the skirt of her dress and undoes the laces on his breeches, pushing them down just enough to free his cock before she's sinking on top of him, taking him inside while she kisses and kisses him. Jaime's hand goes to the curve of her belly, caressing it reverently, and he can feel his eyes growing hot and the tears spilling, and he doesn't care, he doesn't care for anything but her mouth on his and her body above his and the second chance that she's giving him. 

It doesn't last, it can't when it has been so long and he has missed her so much. He cries out his climax and she stills on top of him, still trembling with desire. Jaime enfolds her in his arms and twists them around until she's the one under him, he keeps kissing her, his hand moving down her front and between her legs, pressing where she is wet and slick and hot. He presses his fingers inside and rubs her nub with his thumb until she's shaking, her voice climbing higher and higher. She shudders her release and Jaime wants nothing more than to bury his face there where she's dripping now, remember her taste and the softness of her sex on his tongue. 

That is something for another time, though, right now he has no energy for anything except kissing her lips once more and dropping his head on her chest. 

"I love you," he mumbles, closing his eyes, the exhaustion and sleep deprivation of the past weeks finally catching up to him now he's safe in her arms.

"Sleep now, Jaime," he hears her says, her voice coming from a long distance. "We still have much to talk about, but we can do that later."

" _Stay with me_?"

"Yes." she sighs against his temple. "Sleep now."

With a contented sigh, he does just that.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels a bit rushed, but I wanted to get his out tonight. I love that thanks to this dumbass show I've found the drive to write again, but I have the feeling it won't last past tonight's episode. We'll see.


End file.
